


Population Explosion

by Annehiggins



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple diplomatic mission leads to four impossible pregnancies and a lot of questions for Jim and Bones. This is a mix of angst and humor. </p><p>Warning: While no one has sex with anyone they didn't want to, the pregnancies are noncon for all including het pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Population Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to Live Journal July 18, 2009 with the following note: First, Joanna McCoy did not and does not exist in this Trekverse.
> 
> Second, my take on the post-Kelvin Trekverse is that fear of that mystery ship put technology on a fast forward frenzy, so things like food replicators and holodecks are available to this captain and crew. This is true of all the stories I write, not just this one.

  
**Population Explosion**  
By Anne Higgins

Leonard McCoy woke up with the worst hangover he'd ever had in his life. And given some of the 'death would be better' experiences he'd suffered through that was saying one hell of a lot. His stomach churned and deciding the only fate worse than moving would be lying in his own vomit, he did a credible job of leaping out of bed and into the fresher, then crashed into his knees in front of the toilet without a second to spare.

Vomiting with a depth and enthusiasm he felt certain sent his spleen and at least one kidney tumbling into the vile, bright blue mess in the toilet, Leonard did a lot of bargaining with elusive higher powers – he'd never, ever, ever touch a drop of anything remotely alcoholic if this would just stop, God, please, stop before he lost the second kidney. By some miracle it worked. Being a great lover of a good glass of bourbon, this would have alarmed him if his body hadn't moved on to the next 'make it stop' crisis of the taste in his mouth.

If someone had made him eat the putrid remains of week-old roadkill, he'd have expected it to taste better than … God, he didn't know what! All he knew was he'd be willing to yank out his own tongue to get rid of it. Fortunately, the solution required no blood or further bargains with higher powers. He forced himself to his feet, flushed the toilet then stumbled into the shower.

Nearly crazed with the need to get clean, his hand swatted against the controls, and --Leonard yelped in shock as water, not sonics pounded into him. The crash of cold wetness against his overly-sensitive skin hurt like a mother and couldn't do a damned thing about the taste in his mouth. He fumbled at the panel and the water vanished into the quick pulse of sonics – which both dried him off and cleaned him up with one five-second burst. And thank fuck it killed the taste in his mouth along with all plaque, tarter and other things standing between a man and perfect dental health, not to mention bad breath.

Clean and upright, his brain finally started to report for duty. Since when did he have water in his shower? He scowled at the panel for answers, but all it told him was that yes, he was looking at a standard Starfleet shower with a water upgrade. Only captain's had that luxury. In a torrent of logic that would have made Spock proud, he deduced a number of things: 1) even though he had no memory of coming back to the ship, he was not only there, but 2) he was in Jim's quarters; 3) he was naked; and 4) his dick hurt in a manner that suggested he'd done more than drink himself almost to death.

Fuck, fuck and triple fuck. After five years of resisting the flirtatious nature of James T. Kirk, Leonard had gone and moved himself from the best friend category to fuck buddy. And a pretty fucking careless one at that. His cock hurt enough that if he'd had the awareness to notice, he'd probably had dried blood on it before he took the shower. And not his blood. Fuck.

Angry at himself for hurting Jim, he ignored the pain it caused his still hypersensitive body to stalk back into the bedroom. Sure enough a Jim Kirk-sized lump sprawled across the other half of the bed Leonard had abandoned. While he had no doubts about who had started last night's fuckfest, his guilt made him opt against waking Jim to experience the joys of the same epic hangover gripping him.

So he went to the replicator and used his medical authorization to get it to whip up a hypo full of pain killers and detox serum – a hangover cure he'd developed in self-defense back in his days at Ole Miss. He was a selfish enough bastard to give himself a jolt of it before returning to the bed. A twist of the wrist added a broad spectrum antibiotic to the mix, and he leaned over his sleeping friend.

The jab of a hypo to the neck woke Jim, who groaned loudly as he got about one second's worth of the full hangover effect, then he sighed heavily as relief kicked in. That lasted about as long as Leonard figured it took Jim's tastebuds to wake up. In any case, his normally pretty face twisted in disgust and he bolted for the fresher. A second later the shower came on.

Momentarily denied the opportunity to check Jim, Leonard settled on examining the bed. It was … impressive. Despite the massive hangover and blackout which suggested astronomical amounts of booze, the sheets informed him that performance issues had absolutely not been a problem. Even accounting for two healthy males who'd not had a chance at a shore leave encounter for a couple of months, the amount of stains suggested at least four mutual climaxes. And yes, a couple of those stains had blood mixed with them. He'd definitely hurt Jim.

"Well, this bites," the man in question announced, and Leonard turned to find him leaning against the wall just outside of the refresher. "I finally get you to fuck me and I can't remember a damned thing."

Leonard rolled his eyes. Trust Jim to decide that was the worse thing about waking up with an aching ass. He scooped up his uniform, got a look at it and renamed it the remains of his uniform – someone had been in an infernal hurry to get him out of it – then tossed it into the laundry chute. A second later it spit a nice clean, unripped one back out at him. "The need for lube. …" he paused, considered the amount of blood, then backtracked, "for adequate amounts of lube also got forgotten."

He started yanking on his uniform, then glared at both Jim's lack of motion and his utter comfort with his own nudity. "Get dressed. We need to go to sickbay."

That got him to move – the muscles of his face into a scowl that always looked more like a pout when compared to a master of it like Leonard. "Don't wanna."

"Jim, don't be a baby. You have at least one anal tear. I need to check you out."

The pout deepened.

"Do I seriously need to give you the gory details of peritonitis?"

"Is that really likely?"

Probably not, but he wasn't about to take chances. "I won't know until I have you face down on a biobed."

"Sounds kinky."

"Jim. …"

"I'm willing to deal."

"…" Leonard hated his life. Absolutely hated it. Every single time he tried to do his job, he had to deal with Captain 'hypos are evil' Kirk. He sighed. "What now?"

Jim smirked – experience having taught both of them that this was the point in the argument when Leonard always caved – and sauntered over to him. And it would be really fucking great if he didn't look so blasted edible when he did that.

"I'll let you indulge your sadistic love of hypos," he said, stopping in front of Leonard. He looped his arms loosely around Leonard's neck. "But I want a repeat performance."

He arched an eyebrow, and Jim made that little sound he had come to recognize as a suppressed squeal of delight. For some reason, Jim really, really liked the eyebrow thing. "I fuck you into sickbay and you want another go?"

Jim nodded, then frowned. "Or are you going to go all 'hard to get' even after I got you?"

He supposed that would be a little silly. He sighed, and reached around Jim to squeeze his ass. "Fine, but we're using lube next time. Lots and lots of lube."

A grin split Jim's face. "Anything you say, honey," he answered, gave Leonard a big smacking kiss, then fairly dove for his own uniform.

"Incredible," he muttered. And it sort of was. Remembered or not, Jim had gotten his way and added Leonard McCoy to the notches on his proverbial bed post. Should have been enough, but the kid was acting like maybe it was all a little more important to him than some screwball game. And maybe, just maybe, if Leonard had ever caught a clue of this before, it wouldn't have taken this damned long for Jim to coax him into bed.

"Coming?" Jim asked fairly bouncing in the doorway, and Leonard narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, but before you do again, we're gonna have a long talk about how well you ignore being in pain."

Jim pouted. Leonard hauled him out of the room and into the nearest turbolift. Five seconds later they walked into sickbay.

He activated the privacy screen around the biobed Jim had bled all over often enough that Leonard had come to think of as 'reserved for the next time the captain is an idiot.' "Get on with it," he said nodding toward the bed.

"You are such a grouch," Jim sniffed, then stretched out on his stomach, before wiggling his trousers and underwear down around his thighs. And if he made a show of it, Leonard pretended not to notice.

A quip about swatting him if he didn't settle down went unspoken at the sight of the bruises on the cheeks near his opening. No wonder Leonard's dick hurt – his aim had left a lot to be desired. He sighed, leaned down and brushed his lips against the nape of Jim's neck. "Sorry."

Jim never one to pass up an opportunity, took advantage of his guilt and lifted up enough to claim a proper kiss, but lay back down without being told. Which told Leonard more about how uncomfortable he must be better than any half-assed evasion out of the kid's mouth ever would.

He activated the scanners to sweep the pertinent area, then sighed with relief. "No deep tissue tears," he told Jim and picked up a small skin sealer. "Three near the opening though." It took less than a minute to mend them. He set aside the sealer, then picked up another one to speed up the healing of the bruising. He gave it a rueful look. The instrument's soothing warmth could have a stimulating effect on large areas of nerve clusters – like the anus. "Try to stay still," he said activating it, but already knowing how this would turn out.

For an impressive fifty seconds Jim managed to obey, then he gasped and started squirming. At 90 seconds he moaned, and the squirms became small thrusts. "Bones, please," he begged at the two minute mark.

Satisfied he'd eradicated the damage he'd done, Leonard switched off the device and tossed it onto the instrument tray. Injuries treated, time to make amends. He helped Jim turn onto his back, revealing his weeping erection. Sight made his mouth water, so he put his mouth to good use and wrapped his lips around Jim's cock. Only took a few sucks before Jim came with a shout, flooding Leonard's mouth with warm fluid.

Mmm, tasted good. Sort of sweet. Sweet? What the hell? He stood up and wiped the corner of his mouth, then looked at the fluid on his hand. Clear. Not milky. Again, what the hell?

"Bones, what's wrong?" Jim asked, a blissed out, almost vulnerable sound to his voice. Automatically, Leonard helped him pull his pants back up, and as he did his glance caught on the tunic of his own uniform. Bright blue. Who ever heard of bright blue vomit?

College and Academy days leaving him far from a stranger to waking up with a hangover, Leonard had automatically held liquor responsible for their condition, but the facts rose up to overwhelm the assumption. Including one he could kick himself for not remembering, "We were on a diplomatic mission."

"Shit," Jim hissed. "Wouldn't have gotten drunk." Not booze. Conclusion, given the results, was fairly obvious. "Aphrodisiac?"

"Most likely." He started to reach up to activate a blood analysis scan on Jim, but stopped. "If we got hit with it-"

"So did the others," Jim tried to jump off the biobed, but Leonard caught hold of him.

"Stay put," he hissed, deactivated the privacy field, then shouted for Christine Chapel. The moment she appeared, he rattled off the names, and the dosages of hangover cure to administer before getting every last one of them here five minutes ago.

Obviously both alarmed and puzzled, his head nurse nodded and headed out with two other nurses following her. They barely managed not to collide with Spock as he rushed into sickbay, Nyota Uhura in his arms.

Oh, God, a Vulcan in a sexual frenzy and a human, but Uhura looked more annoyed than hurt. Or maybe she was as big a masochist as Jim. He gestured toward the nearest bed. The scanner leapt to life the moment Spock got her settled. A moment later, he sighed with relief. "Nothing beyond some mild bruising."

"Heck, I had worse," Jim announced as if he were proud of it. 

Or Leonard. Difficult to say, and, "Damnit, Jim, get back on that bed!"

"I'm fine," he scoffed, patted Spock's shoulder, and gave a wide-eyed Uhura his 'yes, I am that hot' smirk.

"Now!" Leonard roared.

Jim scowled, but obeyed.

"Spock," he said pointing to an empty biobed.

"I assure you, Doctor-"

"We were drugged," he cut off the 'I am fine' speech. Maybe he should buy them all T-shirts with that on it. Fucking idiots. "Your physiology must have kept it from fully overwhelming your judgment, but it obviously effected you."

Showing more sense than Jim, Spock immediately lay down. "Computer, run full blood scans."

"You, too," Jim demanded, giving him a worried look. "You were drugged, too."

Right. He slapped a sensor keyed to his PADD onto his right forearm and called up the same test. A dozen flashing readouts times four immediately began clamoring for his attention. "Unknown compound in our blood," he started reading aloud, keeping the others informed while at the same time carefully keeping his brain about two beats ahead of his mouth. "Breaking down rapidly. Be no sign of it within an hour. Should be no lingering after effects. Huh, neutralized the contraceptive shot – Jim, you'll need to be careful."

"Not if you keep your damned promise," he muttered.

He raised his eyebrow, but went on with the readouts. "Spock, concentration is weaker and breaking down faster in your blood stream." Thank God. If not for that, he could well have killed Uhura.

His eyes went to her readout panel. Same results as Jim and his. Except. That was impossible. "Computer, repeat test 37, bed 3."

A pause, then the same absolutely impossible results flashed up. "Doctor?" she asked, his consternation obviously alarming her.

"It's okay," he hastened to assure her. Wanting a moment to decide what else to say, he glanced toward Jim's readout, then bellowed, "That is fucking impossible!"

"What?" Jim shouted, rearing up to take a look for himself, but, of course, that disengaged the sensors and the panel went blank.

Leonard shoved him back down, the panel lit back up and he ordered the same test repeated. Same results. More than a little afraid to look, he checked his own read out and Spock's. Nothing.

"Bones, what the hell is going on?"

Before he could answer, his nurses returned with the four missing members of the away team. They were all shoved onto beds, and the same readouts popped up. Scotty and Sulu's matched his and Spock's; Gaila and Chekov matched Jim and Uhura's.

Chapel got a look at the readouts and her jaw dropped. He found it comforting someone else saw the same thing he did. "Doctor. …"

"Yeah. I know. Impossible."

"Bones!" Jim roared.

Wanting a few more moments to pretend life still had a tenuous grasp on sanity, he gave the newcomers the same speech – bruises, minor tearing (more lube next time, Sulu), compound breaking down, no lingering effects, and … He sighed. He knew only two people in the room who might take this news well, but he'd stalled all he could. "Jim, Nyota, Pavel, Gaila – you're all … pregnant."

The silence that followed was profound.

Jim finally broke it. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"I wish," he muttered, gesturing at Chapel.

She shook herself. "I can confirm Dr. McCoy's diagnosis, Captain."

"Oh, shit."

Or something like that.

"Oh, my God," Uhura whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She looked at the Vulcan she loved – or more accurately, the completely sterile half-Vulcan she loved. "I'm so sorry."

"No, Nyota," Leonard hastened to assure her, "I don’t understand it, but Spock _is_ the father."

The grief slipped into amazement. "Really?"

He nodded. "Absolutely positive."

An almost incandescent joy lit up her face. "Is it healthy?"

"It's all of seven hours old," he told her. "It seems viable, the genetic mix healthy, but I can't guarantee anything at this point."

"You the father of mine?" Jim asked, his voice quiet.

"Yes, fathers are who everyone woke up with."

Uhura glowed and Spock took her hand with a gentle smile – which was a Vulcan version of glowing. Gaila and Scotty exchanged oh, so neutral glances. Chekov blushed and very pointedly did not look at Sulu, who simply stood there with his jaw literally hanging open. Behold the command staff of the starship _Enterprise._ Fan-fucking-tastic. Everyone better start praying the Klingons didn't launch an attack in the next few hours … nine moths? Shit.

Well, first things first. He needed some answers and the sooner the better. Jim apparently agreed, because he jumped off the biobed yet again and made a beeline for the door while muttering something about ripping someone apart. Leonard could guess the rest, but he caught hold of a handful of tunic and yanked Jim to a stop. "What do you think you're doing?"

He scowled. His dangerous one that had nothing to do with teasing anger or pouting. It usually heralded someone's death or near to it. "I'm beaming down to have a talk with Buris."

Talk probably translated as 'beat him to death' and Leonard understood the urge, but, "The hell you are!"

He could feel the others' shocked stares. He and Jim fought all the time, but they normally did it in private or in angry whispers too low for anyone, except maybe Spock, to hear.

"Doctor-" Jim started, the ice clinging to Leonard's title enough to freeze a man, but he'd shiver later.

"Exactly. This is a fucking medical emergency and _I_ will handle it!" Leonard had procedure on his side, but that seldom impressed Jim, so he forced the anger out of his voice. "Jim, they have physically and psychologically compromised all of us. There is no way I'm authorizing anyone to set foot on that planet." Then he leaned closer and whispered, "You've never gotten into a fight without taking at least one good shot to the stomach."

Jim paled. "You're worried about me losing the baby?"

"And you. I don't know what it would do to you. I _need_ answers, Jim. Let me do my job and get them." The cadet he'd roomed with at the Academy would never have backed down, but Jim had grown a lot in the two years since taking command of the ship, and it was the captain who finally nodded.

"All right."

He released the tunic, then reached up to gently rub the back of Jim's neck. "And you'll stay here?"

Jim rolled his eyes, but leaned into Leonard's touch. "Yes, Bones, I'll be good."

He snorted. "That'll be the day." He gave Jim's neck an affectionate squeeze, then went to his office determined to get the answers he hoped would somehow make all of this okay.

*

Jim sat cross-legged on 'his' biobed and watched his crewmates. Spock and Uhura sat together on her bed looking all dewy-eyed and in love. Jim could honestly say he never expected to think that about a Vulcan, but, if you know what to look for – and Jim did courtesy of a series of mind-melds that made any notion of privacy or boundaries between them laughable – Spock had managed it. He knew the only reason they hadn't married was that Uhura wanted a child. She'd made it clear on more than one occasion that she wanted Spock more and would be happy to adopt a child, but Spock had stubbornly refused to believe her. This was beyond a miracle for them – it was their lives finally fully coming together as all of Spock's resistance crumbled.

Though no mental mojo bound him to either Scotty or Gaila, neither was all that hard to read. His chief engineer and assistant chief engineer had a long standing sexual friendship going. Neither was interested in monogamy, but neither seemed too upset about the pregnancy. Which, hey, another miraculous blending of near-compatible-but-nope-couldn't-pull-it-off species. This miracle, however, didn't come with all the longing, so, eh, whatever. Right, they'd get to the awesomeness of it all later, he was certain. And he figured those two could work together and raise a child with the same loving care they gave the ship's engines. Hell, it would be a lot more than Jim had growing up.

That left Sulu and Chekov. Jim had to give Sulu a shove to get him out of his shock, but he had to give the guy credit, once he shook it off, he was right over there all but cuddling a way too pale Chekov. The two of them had done friends, friend with benefits (and Jim seriously didn't even want to know at what age the change had happened) and had obviously moved into something deeper during the last six or so months. But Pavel was all of nineteen years old and at that age things changed quickly. Certainly wouldn't be the first relationship that fell apart under the strain of parenthood, but he'd sort of been living vicariously through them, and couldn't hardly stand the thought of their relationship crashing and burning.

Jim sighed softly, carefully keeping his game face on when all he really wanted to do was curl up in a corner and die. This morning he'd woken up and found himself happier than he'd ever been in his life – including the day they'd given him his ship. He'd finally caught Bones, had even got Bones to sort of agree that was what had happened. And if it wasn't a 'happily ever after' moment, at least it moved them into 'friends with benefits.' Firmly in that category he could have plotted and schemed his way into something more. Maybe. But at least it made it more likely. Or it had. 

His hand shifted to his stomach. Their baby grew inside of him. Another fucking miracle, and, yeah, underneath the 'freaking out here' terror, he kind of liked the idea. But it was the end of any chance with Bones. The ex-Mrs. McCoy (Jim called her the Wicked Witch of the South; Bones called her Jocelyn, but the sentiments matched up) had made that clear the one time she'd managed to corner her ex-husband's roommate. Some divorce paperwork Bones needed to sign – although both of them suspected she'd simply wanted to swoop in and make his new life as miserable as the old – had brought her to their dorm room door when Bones was at class. She saw it as the perfect opportunity for a little heart-to-heart with him. Had she figured out even before he had that Jim loved Bones? It had sort of snuck up on him, bursting into his full awareness that moment when it seemed like the _Enterprise_ and all his classmates were going to leave without Jim.

Barring planet-wide annihilations, it had been the single worst moment of his life – and it had a hell of a lot of competition for the honor. Not because he might never set foot on the ship. Not because he felt disgraced or angry. But because Bones was going to sail off without him. Anyway, he certainly hadn't known when she'd shown up three months into their first year at the Academy. She'd been beautiful, even glamorous, gracious and oh, so polite, yet somehow she'd managed to let him know he'd been saddled with a no-account snake for a roommate. A snake who had divorced her because she'd wanted a baby and he hadn't. And how fucking ironic was it that the one thing Jim felt was in his favor – hey, no parts for a baby – had just slaughtered any potential of something more? Hell, it would probably kill their friendship, too. And he'd always at least had that. But if kids were the sticking point, he couldn't see Bones sticking around while Jim struggled along in single-parenthood. And didn't that make being the only pregnant sap in the room sitting alone a perfect metaphor for his life? Fuck.

"We'll have to resign," Uhura said, the first sadness she'd shown in her voice.

"What?" Jim snapped, appalled by the idea, yet relieved it let him get out of his own head. "What are you talking about?"

The look she gave him held as much compassion as regret. "I'm sorry, Jim. I know your mother chose otherwise, but I can't have a baby and leave it for someone else to raise." 

Spock nodded in agreement. "We can go to New Vulcan."

"Oh, no," Jim said. "I'm not going through this alone! You are staying right here!"

They both gave him an odd look as if he'd managed to discover the one language in the whole freaking universe neither of them understood. "We can't raise a baby on a starship," she said.

"Why not?" If anyone in this room dared to say it wasn't safe, he had a list five miles long of times a ship had proved safer than any stationary target.

"It _is_ against regulations, Captain," Spock pointed out. And yes, technically it was, although many parents kept their children with them for months at a time without a mutter of complaint from the Admiralty. His mother had simply chosen to do otherwise – something Jim spent a lot of effort to _not_ think about. In any case, if it took out the best fucking command staff in all of Starfleet it was way beyond the stupidest rule of all time.

Jim rolled his eyes. "And we never ignore those. Gimmie a break, Spock."

"But Keptin," Chekov spoke for the first time since the great announcement, "surely Starfleet will not allow us to disregard this regulation?"

"You mean the same Starfleet who ordered us to do whatever the Heraans wanted?" Up to and including all of the senior staff beaming down to the planet for a celebration dinner, and the number two was oh, so sacred to their people, so could they please make certain everyone attended with someone? If not for that bit of appeasement, at least Gaila wouldn't be a member of the bun-in-the-oven club. "I think they owe us one, Pavel. Besides, I'm not asking for their damned approval."

"Aye," Scotty grinned. "There's an old Earth saying 'better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.'"

"Exactly."

Sulu frowned, "But they could. …"

"What? Kick us out of Starfleet? Not great PR under the circumstances. Besides, like the lady says, having someone else raise my kid isn't on the table." That got him another round of strange looks, and it was getting on his fucking nerves. Damn, some times being the captain was a real bitch. And he was tired of this fucking symbolism.

He got up and started toward Bones' office saying, "But George and I are staying until they _make_ us go."

"More like Georgia, Captain," Chapel said, immediately moving to intercept him.

A girl? Of course, it would be a girl, because he was even less an idea of how to raise one of those and his life loved to throw shit like that in his way. "Fine. But I'm naming her after my father, not a fucking state."

"Georgina or Georgette, perhaps?" she suggested, steering him back to the damned biobed.

"Georgina," he muttered, deciding it sucked the least.

"And us, Miss?" Chekov asked. "What grows inside of me?"

Jim tried not to flinch at the 'us.' Only one who would never be part of any 'us.' At least not until George – because he was gonna call her George no matter what cutesy nonsense he had to put on the birth certificate – arrived. The thought eased the hurt inside him. A little.

"A girl."

"So they," Jim gestured toward the 'mixed couples' – two couples of two sexes from two different species; had to have made the Heraans all giddy with the sacredness of the great Two – "are having boys." Two boys. Two girls.

"Yes, that would fit the pattern," Spock agreed.

Chapel nodded, but she looked unhappy, guilty – most likely due to the frown Uhura was giving her. Must not have wanted to know the sex of the baby. He remembered his mom telling him how she and his dad hadn't wanted to know so the medical staff always used a modified readout for scans during her pregnancy so the information wouldn't pop up and spoil the surprise. He blinked at that. Might be a silly custom born from the days when there was no way to know, but medical personnel not only honored it, they indulged it. But Chapel had just come right out and told them.

His eyes narrowed, then settled on the office with its privacy mode activated so no one could see into it. Bones seldom bothered with the option as he liked knowing what was going on. "Computer," he snapped, "location of Dr. McCoy."

"Dr. McCoy is not on board the _Enterprise."_

*

McCoy followed the path to Chief Counsel Buris' home. He'd never been able to decide how to classify the dwelling – hut was too primitive; house too elaborate – but, like most of the homes he'd seen, it was comfortable, but devoid of anything other than basic environmental technology.

According to Buris, this was by choice. Or rather a choice made many generations ago. Once the world had been a technological marvel so advanced as to appear magical in comparison to Federation standards. But something had gone horribly wrong and had almost utterly destroyed the planet. To prevent it from ever happening again, the inhabitants had embraced a simple lifestyle based on agriculture – something akin to 18th century North America, but with indoor plumbing. A good old Southern boy at heart, Leonard had found it charming. Well, as charming as he found anything.

Given the setting, one would have expected to see people working in the fields, but he didn't see a single soul along the way. Not hard to figure out why, once he approached the village-town. Some sort of party seemed to be going on in every single home with people laughing and dancing as they moved from dwelling to dwelling. At least twenty people had crowded into Buris' home.

"Friend McCoy!" Buris' deep booming voice greeted him from the far edge of the crowd, "Welcome on this joyous of days!"

Joyous of days. Celebration of a wide-spread event from the look of it.

The smile on the big, bearded-man's face faded as he glanced around as if looking for someone missing. "Where is your Kirk?"

Yes, the Heraans had a thing about pairs and had decided he and Jim were one before the two of them had come to the same conclusion. "I didn't want to risk him beaming down given his condition," he answered, being deliberately vague to see the reaction.

A huge grin split the man's face. "You have received Her blessing! I knew we were a kindred people! And your companions?"

Despite abundant evidence to the contrary, Leonard could calmly handle irritating situations, and Jim wasn't the only conniving bastard aboard their ship. "Blessed as well, but confused. In each case, such a blessing should have been impossible."

To his surprise, Buris looked confused. "But is this not always true?"

Leonard got him away from the party so they could talk and exchange information. It turned out that whatever had happened to the planet had also sterilized the population. To conceive, a couple – any couple – needed assistance from what had become known as the Blessing. What it was or how it worked had long ago been forgotten, but most, including Buris attributed it to the workings of a higher being. A higher being who worked on a schedule of granting this blessing every four years to those gathered at the Festival of Two.

It took everything Leonard had not to start shouting. "And you didn't think this was something our landing party needed to know?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"It has been but two years since our last Blessing. To have it happen now is a joyous event to be sure," he said, then gave Leonard a rueful smile, "but it will require some adjustments."

Yes, Leonard could imagine. Literally two millennia with births happening only every four years would create quite a few customs that would be rocked by this. "Any idea why this happened?"

"Last winter a plague took many of our children," he answered. "Our priestesses believe the great need of so many broken hearts must have moved the Great Mother."

Some sort of failsafe to keep the population relatively stable. Logical. And God, he was sounding like Spock. "I … love Jim very much," he said, knowing such a preface would gain more cooperation, "and I am worried about him. What can you tell me about how the pregnancies will progress."

Buris quickly assured him that the conceptions created by the Blessing were always perfect, and not once in all of recorded history had either the child or the birthing parent – male or female -- died. "All will be well if you trust in the Blessing."

Right. Not the best treatment protocol he could think of, but it gave him a place to start.

"And now you should return to your Kirk," Buris said, giving him a clap on the shoulder. "While I wish to return to Alana and enjoy the few months of love we have been granted."

Something cold swept through Leonard. "'Granted?'"

He laughed. "Truly, we disliked each other a great deal before today. And will again once the baby is born."

Dislike to love in one evening. "That … must make it difficult to raise a child together."

"Not at all! The most beautiful babies result from such an unwilling match and the children belong to the entire village. They will know nothing, but love."

Leonard managed a tight smile and nod as Buris hurried off. He got it. Limited population, small gene pool requiring a wide range of pairings to offset inbreeding – something the surviving Vulcans were dealing with. But instead of using artificial wombs, the Blessing simulated love to get the results it wanted. God, he got it.

He'd been in love with Jim for years, but not once in all the time they'd been together had Jim ever given him the slightest indication that he thought of Leonard as anything but his best friend. 'And will again once the baby is born.'

He brushed a finger across his comm, then dropped his hand without activating it. Before beaming down he'd switched it to non-receive mode to keep Jim from ranting at him when he figured out he'd left the ship. He hadn't liked deceiving him, but he'd needed answers and hadn't wanted Jim or anyone who hadn't woken up pregnant or a father to risk the trip. His one consolation – no one but him knew for some of them any love would be fleeting. No need for them to know. Humans fell in and out of love all the time so let everyone enjoy the time they had together.

A simple decision, since knowledge obviously didn't make the love go away. Had to be some sort of pheromone put off by the fetus to help ensure a protector, but with a whole village of protectors, once born, the baby stopped producing it. Yes, a simple decision. But he stood there for a long time trying to weather the storm of his own emotions. They'd beamed down here for a simple dinner, only to be raped by the whims of someone or something. No choice. Not even in how they felt. Guess they were lucky the Blessing hadn't decided to mix and match dates for the evening. He remembered the anguish on Nyota's face those few moments she'd thought someone other than Spock had impregnated her. Yeah, goddamned lucky.

Taking his blessings were he could and knowing he'd been away from the ship for too long, he activated his comm and said, "Energize." It was a measure of how upset he was that it he forgot to duck as he re-materialized.

*

Jim sat on the hated biobed and glared at his rotten son of a bitch CMO as Chapel ran a dermal knitter over Jim's busted knuckles. He took a great deal of satisfaction from the fact that he'd broken the bastard's jaw. A pity the reknitter Dr. M'Benga ran over the jaw in question would heal it so thoroughly that Bones wouldn't even have a toothache to testify to Jim's outrage.

Worse, misplaced loyalty by Bones' staff had Chapel fixing him up at a much slower rate. And that was just wrong! He'd been lied to! Deceived! Out maneuvered by his CMO, his best friend and … oh, hell, the father of his child! By all rights, they should be jabbing Bones with every fucking hypo within reach. And if he could just get his hands on one, he'd remedy that particular injustice.

"Thanks," Bones muttered, signaling M'Benga had finished while Jim's knuckles still looked red and swollen. Fucking unfair.

He upped the wattage of his glare as Bones walked over to him, but found himself utterly incapable of evading the lips that captured his. To his disgust, he fucking melted against Bones, even let a sound of distress get past all his righteous anger. "Two hours," he, well, he sorta half-accused, half-whined, "you were unreachable for almost two fucking hours." And the goddamned asshole had used his CMO powers to absolutely forbid anyone else from beaming down. Stupid transporters had actually been locked down for all planetary coordinates until Bones had used his command code to release them.

Bones kissed him again, then took both Jim's hand and the reknitter from Chapel. He increased the device's yield, confirming yet another conspiracy to keep Jim in the damned sickbay, then went to work fixing his knuckles. For a minute or so Bones didn't say anything, although his touch had a gentleness that spoke nothing of professional detachment. Finally he said, "I needed answers."

Jim scowled. "You get 'em?"

"Yes, but no need to go through it more than once." He switched off the reknitter and let go of Jim's once again perfect hand.

Right, because that would be fucking boring, and Jim hated being bored. He activated his comm, then said, "Attention all members of the Bun in the Oven Club, please assemble in the Captain's quarters in fifteen minutes." That should do it.

Bones gave him one of those 'are you shitting me?' looks. "What? It's not like the whole fucking ship doesn't know by now."

"Unbelievable. Come on, kid," he said, hauling Jim off the biobed and towards the door.

"Hey," he squawked – absolutely not a squeak as that would be unmanly and given his condition he needed all the man points he could get – "pregnant guy here, easy on the goods."

Bones muttered something about impossible brats and spankings. "Well, okay," Jim answered, "but if the kid somehow knows what's going on, you're explaining it to George."

"Who the hell is George?"

Oh, yeah, Bones missed that conversation. "The baby. Georgina, which sucks, but I'm only giving birth to one kid and I'm calling her George." What was Bones' father's name? Oh, yeah. David. "Maybe Davina as the middle name."

Bones snorted, but pulled Jim into a big kiss right in the middle of the corridor – which kind of left the few saps who'd snapped to attention as they passed wondering what to do, but that was their problem. Oh, okay, he was getting the stuffing kissed out of him so he could be magnanimous. He made a dismissed-shoo wave with his hand, deciding if they couldn't figure that out he needed to kick their asses off his crew.

Given his extreme post-stuffing-out-kissed good mood, it took some effort to summon up the proper wattage for an 'I'm the fucking captain, so suck it up and deal' look to quell Uhura's rant when they reached his quarters. But hey, it worked.

Jim believed in informal settings for post-mission debriefings and he'd set up his quarters with three sofas arranged into a conversation area. Everyone – coupled up and holding hands -- quickly took their usual seats. Not willing to be left out, Jim made Bones hold his hand, too. He even liked the irony of it being the hand that had broken his jaw. "So talk, already," he said, which might not be captainy, but he'd pretty much had it with this day.

Bones sighed, then, wonder of wonders, obeyed. And okay, this planet was getting a big old 'visit during Festival of Two at your own risk' warning label slapped on it – just as soon as Jim decided the Admiralty was mature enough to handle the reason why. And yeah, okay, perfect healthy babies and no-risk pregnancies. Good to know. All good – except for the really hadn't intended to wake up pregnant this morning part, of course. So what was the bastard holding back? Jim could absolutely tell there was something, but not what. And suddenly Jim was feeling some sympathy with Ambassador Spock's Kirk running around and dismantling societies that did stupid shit to the ship and crew because – something or someone knocked them up – really not the greatest answer he'd ever heard. But he supposed Command would get all pissy if he started lobbing photon torpedoes planetside trying to find some fucking deity or biogenerater or something. Worse, they might say he was hormonal, and then he'd really have to kill them out of shear principle.

"All promises of perfection aside," Bones said, "it goes without saying that none of us are Heraan. They have a gestation period of ten months; Vulcans, eight; Orions, eight and a half; Terrains, nine." He sighed. "I want to keep a close eye on things, so I expect each of you to report for a quick scan at the end of each alpha shift."

Next Bones opted to give them the 'what are we two?' list of options about handling unexpected pregnancies. It surprised Jim how little they interested him given the whole really, really didn't expect it thing. No, he was having this baby and he was keeping it, so suck on that universe, Starfleet and anyone else who thought they knew better. He got the feeling his opinion was shared by all. Bones fell silent, so time to be the captain again.

"So, that's it for the intell?"

Bones nodded.

He'd have to remember that Bones sucked at that, but to be fair, he was kind of hamstrung by the whole 'please the Heraans no matter what' edict. "Now what?"

He took a deep breath, a sure sign Jim was really going to hate what he said next. "You're restricted from away missions and I would prefer you avoid all transporter use until I have a better idea of how 'normal' all of this is going to be."

Oh, they were so going to talk about this. Talk about overkill! He scowled at Bones, who ignored him. "I would suggest showing a strong interest in scientific ship-board missions versus first contact for the time being."

"Fine," Jim huffed. "Anything else?" And there better _not_ be, damnit!

Either because there wasn't or because he was actually intimidated by Jim's scowl – and he should live so long – Bones shook his head. "Not for now. The replicators have already been programmed of your new dietary needs, but you shouldn't notice any difference in the taste or texture of the food." He thought for a second, then added, "And for the duration you're limited to synthehol – no real alcohol."

"Thank Christ, I'm not the one who got knocked up," Scotty said with enthusiasm.

Things pretty much deteriorated from there.

*

Fuck, what a day. Shift over, Leonard dropped into his office chair and thought longingly about the bottle of bourbon he had stashed in his quarters. If waking up to find out he'd gotten his male best friend pregnant didn't call for downing most of a bottle, he didn't know what did, but no, he'd given his word not to drink while Jim couldn't. Even if Gaila had forced that promise from all the fathers after she'd kneed an adamant Scotty. His lips twitched into a slight smile. Funny how getting hit in the groin changed a man's perspective on things.

He'd used Scotty's predicament as an excuse to escape back to sickbay, then finished out alpha shift. From the comm chatter, the others had also opted to report for duty. When life turned itself upside down, a little routine often proved good for the soul. Now it was time to deal with a new reality and carve out a few new routines.

With a small measure of regret, he signed off on the shift log, then got back to his feet. Slowly, feeling far too much sympathy for a condemned man taking his last walk, he made his way back to Jim's quarters. All too aware this would be the first time they would be alone since finding out about the pregnancy, he wasn't looking forward to what had to come next. Except, God, he was.

In nine months or so Jim would remember he did not love Leonard. Excruciating embarrassment would be the best reaction. But anger, even hatred might follow. For the next few months he'd have everything he'd ever wanted, but it might cost him a friendship that should have lasted a lifetime. Not a price he wanted to pay, but what choice did he have?

Jim thought he loved Leonard. He was pregnant with their child and, though Leonard was certain he'd sooner be boiled in oil than admit it, he had to be afraid. Leonard's parents had taught him to face his responsibilities, and he'd be damned if he'd stop now. Still, he cast one longing look toward the door of his own quarters two doors down from Jim's. He could do this, he told himself. Jim needed him now, and, if, in the end, it cost him even Jim's friendship, at least he'd have George because, no matter what, he knew Jim was far too fine a man to ever use their child as a weapon against him.

Finding strength in that thought, he touched the hail signal. A moment later the door slid open. It didn't surprise him in the least to find Jim curled up in the corner of his favorite sofa with the lights at less than 25 percent. Boy tended to brood about personal matters, and Leonard tried not to think about what might happen to Jim when he no longer allowed Leonard to pull him out of his moods.

Normally he would have brought a bottle and planted himself on the far end of the sofa, but normally he would have come as a friend. Not his role now, so he walked over empty-handed and sat down right next to Jim. For a moment nothing happened, then Jim uncoiled enough to rewrap himself around Leonard instead of the pillow he'd been clutching, his head coming to rest on Leonard's shoulder. God, it felt so right. How could those damned Heraans have something like this and not mourn its loss?

He brushed his lips against Jim's forehead and felt the fine tremor in the man's body. "I can't remember when I fell in love with you," he murmured. "Seems like I have all my life, but I guess it must have happened during that first shuttle ride." He shook his head slightly at the memory. "There I was all hungover and half crazed with the shear stupidity of what I was doing, and this punk kid starts trying to calm me down." He chuckled softly. "Guess that much hasn't changed."

"Me, too," Jim whispered. "Love you and stuff."

Didn't he wish. His hand shifted to caress the flat span of Jim's stomach, then frowned as Jim's trembling increased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just -- I need to feel you inside me."

Leonard smiled. "I think that can be arranged."

Jim rose to his feet, drawing Leonard up with him and into a deep kiss. God, he could kiss. They moved slowly toward the bed, stopping to kiss and shed clothing along the way, but soon he was easing Jim's beautiful, naked body down onto the mattress.

They'd stripped and changed the bedding in the few minutes before their fellow 'club members' had arrived, and some time since then, Jim must have stashed a tube of lube under the pillow which he now pulled out and offered to Leonard.

He took it, poured a generous amount onto his fingers and began the slow task of getting Jim ready for him, all while he kissed and licked every inch of gorgeous flesh he could reach.

Jim moaned and clutched at his arms, his legs shifting restlessly as if they wanted both to wrap tightly around Leonard while at the same time trying to stay far apart so his fingers could push deeper and deeper. "Bones, please."

Another kiss, more lube on his cock, then a slow, slide in. "God, Jim," he moaned, all that incredible heat and pressure making his head swim. Lips captured his, grounding him in the taste and scent of Jim Kirk, and he began to trust. The evidence they'd had suggested the night before had been about frantic speed and power. Now, aware and with the man he loved finally in his arms, Leonard moved with a rhythm paced to savor and feel absolutely everything.

Their gazes locked as they finally came, and he found himself looking into wide eyes looking at him with absolute adoration. Somehow it gave him the energy to kiss Jim again, to keep kissing him with that same slow, deep thoroughness until gravity finally separated their bodies.

Jim whimpered as Leonard's spent cock fell free, his arms tightening around Leonard as if he feared he would vanish.

"I'm here," he whispered to reassure him, then made him a solemn promise. "I'll always be here." Until the time came when Jim wanted him to go.

*

At exactly six weeks and one day, the morning sickness kicked in. Except it was more like mid-afternoon sickness for Jim. He was sitting in his ready room doing the usual boring ever growing reports to Starfleet – none of which mentioned the four pending additions to his crew and would not until it was all a done deal – and suddenly the hunger pangs stirring his stomach turned evil.

He bolted for the fresher, then hit his knees while cursing his stupidity. Bones had warned them against going hungry, but Jim had lost track of time doing fucking reports. Shit! If he was going to be this miserable, it should at least be due to something more interesting than that!

_Morning sickness 101, people. About fifty percent of all pregnancies result in it, so, given the Heraan love of duality, I expect two or all of you to get it. …_

Lucky him, he got to be at least one of two. Even better, as his stomach gave another violent heave it looked like he'd avoided the banality of a mild case. And sarcasm seemed surprisingly ineffective against nausea, damnit! God, he wanted Bones and one of his nasty hypos to make this all go away, but he couldn't bring himself to gasp out his lover's name and activate the comm.

Fucking inconvenient when the lover you were trying to keep from getting annoyed by the pregnancy was your doctor, too. He wretched again, then again, and again. Fucking damnation, he didn’t have anything to bring up, so stop already!

A large, warm, dearly-loved hand began to rub his back and Bones gently chided, "Idiot."

He made a whining sound around his stomach muscles bunching up for another go, then a pungent smell filled the room and his nausea vanished. "What? …"

Bones got him to his feet, then continued to rub his back while Jim rinsed out his mouth. "It's a ginger compound," Bones told him. "You can wear it like aftershave or drink a milder form as a tea. Either way it's been a long time since mothers have had to suffer through morning sickness."

Jim scowled at him in the mirror. "You couldn't have given it to me before?"

Bones smirked, "And waste a valuable opportunity to illustrate what a bad idea it is to not listen to your doctor?"

No way he was winning this one, so he asked, "Who else got it?"

"Nyota, but only a very mild case." And just in case Jim was dimwitted enough to not get the previous point, he added, "She was careful not to let herself get too hungry."

Bitch was an utter suck up, and anyway, "How did you know I was puking up my toenails?"

Bones made him turn around to face him. "Jim, I'm the CMO, your lover and the father of that baby you're carrying. For the next nine months, you're not getting so much as a paper cut without me knowing it. So knock it the hell off with the fucking martyr bit. Got it?"

He nodded, not liking it one bit. How could he make this as painless as possible for the bastard if he had the biosensors on him all the time? "You putting the others through this peeping-tommery?"

Bones arched his eyebrow like he always did when Jim made up a perfectly good new word. "Given the circumstances, more than I normally would, but no, not constantly. However, I can trust them to tell me the truth when they don't feel right."

Damned ship was full of suck ups who didn't even have the brains to suck up to the fucking captain! Pity he couldn't make them scrape barnacles like in the good old days. "I'm _having_ a baby, Bones. I'm not actually one myself."

Bones snorted. "Don't I know it. A baby is all about letting anyone in the general vicinity know all about its discomforts. You, on the other hand mphf-" A tactical genius, Jim could see he'd lost this one before it started, so he resorted to fighting dirty and kissed Bones into silence.

Bones obliged him by deepening the kiss, but when their lips parted he went all mother-hen on him again. "You taken your nap yet?"

Well, he could work with that. "You volunteering to make me tired enough to sleep?"

Bones smirked and pushed him gently toward the comfy sofa on the far side of the room. "I'll see what I can do."

Double score! Afternoon sex and a sexy Bones to snuggle with during naptime. Jim gave himself over to the plan, and absolutely did not let himself think about how moments like this might come crashing to an end when he began to show.

*

Much to everyone's – well, Leonard and Nyota's – chagrin, Jim's insistence on weekly meetings of the BIO (Bun in Oven) Club turned out to be a good thing. For one hour, it gave everyone a ship's-business-free zone to relax and share the weirdness that had become their lives. Even better, two of the four meetings were divided up by moms (Jim always bellowed he was not going to be a mom! He was a man, damnit. Chekov agreed with him, but, of course, he would.) and dads. To no one's surprise, and everyone's approval, these segregated gatherings quickly degenerated down into bitch sessions about needy/uncaring/whining/overbearing significant others.

Demands for backrubs until long-suffering mates' arms were ready to drop off was the subject of today's meeting. "I don't know what the fuck you're complaining about, Spock," Leonard said. "Your damnable Vulcan stamina should keep you going twice as long without complaint."

Sulu and Scotty nodded, adding their glares to his, but Spock merely raised an eyebrow at them. "This would be true, Doctor, were it not that Nyota is well aware I am capable of greater endurance and sets her demands accordingly. It is most taxing. However, any attempts I make to reason with her are met with long tirades about what is happening to her body."

"I get those even when I don't complain," Sulu said, sipping at his tea. Decaffeinated because Leonard had cut the moms off from that, too. "And now that he's starting to show, he's getting really insecure." He shook his head. "I thought all that 'I look like a beached whale' stuff was movie nonsense."

"It can be," Leonard replied. "But we're a looks-oriented society." Mindful that his lover was the captain, he opted not to go into detail about the bundle of insecurity that was Jim Kirk. Instead he offered, "Telling him he's beautiful whenever you can work it into a conversation helps." And, of course, Jim was. Even more so than usual. All four of the moms positively glowed with their pregnancies. Gave Leonard hope that they were on track for those perfect births the Heraans had promised.

*

At five months Uhura stalked into Jim's ready room dragging Spock along behind her. "Marry us," she demanded in the sort of voice that made Jim want to look around for a shotgun.

"What? _Now?"_ he spluttered, giving Spock his 'can't you control your woman?' look.

The Vulcan responded with a raised eyebrow that clearly stated 'as well as you can control your doctor.' And okay, that was fair and a good point, but crap, they were in the middle of a duty shift for fuck's sake!

"Yes, now!" He could see a quiver in her right leg, like she was fighting not stomping her foot. "I've waited four years and I'm sick of waiting!"

"Spock –"

"Captain, I believe it would be wise to grant her request." Which must be Vulcan for 'do what the crazy pregnant lady wants.' How romantic.

He sighed. "Okay, but after shift."

"Kirk," she grated out, but he fixed her with his 'I'm captain, lady,' look, and she shut up, even if she continued to glare at him.

"Look, this will be the first wedding we've had," he told her. "I’m not going to deprive the crew of a few hours to make it an event, for God's sake."

"Fine," she sighed, then swung her glare on Spock, and that worked better for Jim, so he wished her good luck with that. "But I'm going to go announce it now."

A wise officer with keen survival skills, Spock nodded his agreement. She whirled on her heel and stalked out. "That woman is just fucking scary."

"Indeed."

Jim wished he could offer him a drink, but he couldn't indulge and a Vulcan couldn't appreciate the anesthetic properties of a good shot of Jack. "Bones will have to sign off on this before I can perform the ceremony."

"Yes, I did try to tell her that before she approached you about the matter."

"Approached? You call that storming of my gates 'approached?'"

"Such things are in the eye of the beholder, are they not?"

Jim rolled his eyes and he was so hanging around Bones too much. "Spock, get your ass down to sickbay before she kills us both."

He nodded and walked out as Uhura's voice came over the comm. "Attention all crew, you are invited. …"

*

Uhura's announcement didn't surprise Leonard. In fact, when Spock walked in, he couldn’t help asking, "What the hell took you so long?"

"We felt it … unwise to single ourselves out."

Leonard arched an eyebrow. "Oh, you're gonna have to explain that one."

"Nyota and I thought we might pressure others into following our example."

He opened his mouth to tell him they were all big boys and girls completely capable of making up their own minds, when Sulu walked into his office and proved Spock's point by saying, "Pavel and I want to get married, too."

Spock said nothing, and Leonard sighed. Yeah, sickbay was his domain, so this was his problem. And a far bigger one than a first officer inspiring younger crew members into impulsive decisions. Damn, he wished he'd had a better read on Hikaru and Pavel's relationship pre-baby. "This is awfully … sudden, Lieutenant."

"We've been talking about it."

So not totally impulsive, but was it baby-mojo driven? "Any discussion prior to the pregnancy?"

Sulu gave him a questioning look, and Leonard supposed all this reluctance to let a couple expecting a baby marry was odd, but he could speak chapter and verse on how much divorce sucked and his hadn't even involved a child. Thank God and no thanks to Jocelyn. Really would like to spare two young officers he sincerely liked that pain. "Yes, we had decided it was where we were headed, we just thought it would be a few more years before we did so."

Not quite the answer he was hoping for, but a reassuring one all the same. "All right, I'll enter my authorization into the log and see you on the holodeck at the end of shift."

Spock and Sulu nodded their thanks, then left to return to the bridge or plan their weddings. Leonard really didn't care because as they left Scotty and Gaila walked in.

It took everything he had in him not to groan. He _knew_ these two hadn't had the slightest interest in an exclusive relationship, let alone marriage before the Heraan mess. Them he'd have to tell. To his surprise, once he spilled his guts, they both laughed.

"I told you it was something like that, lass," Scotty said giving her an affectionate smile.

She pouted, "I was certain it was more a drug they slipped us at the party."

"You _knew_?" he sputtered.

"Of course, we did," she said almost indignant.

"You don't go from what we had to what we have now overnight," Scotty agreed. "Good to know when it will wear off, so we can make plans."

She nodded. "So about that marriage approval. …"

Now his head was spinning. He hadn't thought either of them would subscribe to the idea that a baby demanded a marriage. "You still want to go through with this?"

"Aye," Scotty said. "Neither of us is figuring on going anywhere, but Starfleet might have other ideas. If a ring on the finger guarantees we and the babe stay on the same ship, I'm all for it."

"Me, too," Gaila agreed, then smirked, "and there's the honeymoon to enjoy."

Scotty grinned, and Leonard held up a hand to cut off any details. "Fine, I'll approve it. Now get out of here. Some of us have work to do."

Not that he got any done. Seemed like one minute he was in his office, the next he was standing in the holodeck's rendition of a rose garden listening as Jim said, "I now pronounce you married."

The crew in attendance cheered as three couples kissed, and he imagined others watching on view screens were doing the same. Yeah, everyone was all smiles. Except for the Captain. Jim hid it well, after all he was a master of hiding pain, but Leonard had learned to see through the bullshit. His eyes were too bright, his jaw held too stiffly. Kid was dying inside.

Damnit, sometimes Leonard hated being right. And goddamnit, the last thing he wanted was a two-time loser label, but fuck, he could not let this go on. "Spock," he said the moment the cheering stopped.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprised he'd demand attention at a moment that clearly had nothing to do with him. "Yes, doctor."

"I believe the first officer is empowered to perform the marriage ceremony for the captain."

Smiles began to erupt all over the place, even the Vulcan looked … pleased. Idiots. See how they all looked come the divorce. "That is correct."

"Bones?" He wanted to fume, rant, rave and rage at the fates, but Jim looked positively incandescent when he stepped toward him.

"I had M'Benga sign off on it," he said, taking Jim's hand. "Just in case you were crazy enough to want me."

"Oh, yeah."

They kissed to more cheering, then Spock said, "In that case, we are gathered here today to join. …"

Leonard repeated his vows, kissed his husband, joined in the post-wedding party, then made love to Jim when they finally made it back to their quarters. After Jim had fallen into the deep exhausted sleep only the combination of a long day, great sex and pregnancy could cause, Leonard held him close and cried himself to sleep.

*

Almost seven months in and all seemed well enough in Jim's world. To his utter relief, his rapidly expanding stomach had done nothing to kill Bone's interest in him, and he was beginning to hope the gorgeous father of his baby might just stick around to help change the diapers. Naturally, his life being the absolute proof of Murphy's Law, it was at precisely the moment he began to feel like things might work out that reality dropped its load on him. But for fuck's sake did it have to use Gaila to do it?

It was during one of the so-not-a-mom bitchfests when she inadvertently answered the question Jim had had from the very beginning – what the hell was Bones hiding? But at the time, Jim had been far too busy glaring at Uhura to even remember he'd had the feeling Bones had been withholding important information when he'd briefed them about the whole pregnancy thing. What consumed Jim at this particular moment was who had died and made Uhura serene bitch goddess of the universe? And how the hell did anyone manage both serenity _and_ bitchiness?

Anyway, she was all on her smug 'I'm female and having the love of my life's baby' high horse, and had she mentioned that Spock was some sort of sex god? Okay, she hadn't said any of that, but it was all in the attitude, and she might know all the languages in the galaxy, but Jim held the Ph.D. in attitude reading. And, for the record, hers was fucking annoying.

She smirked in the wake of implying pregnancy was the best aphrodisiac in the universe, and Spock was so up to the task of keeping her satisfied. Again, all in the attitude, and oh, please. As if anyone in any universe or any timeline could match Jim in Want. Sex. Now. cravings. And he'd match his Bones to his pointy-eared First Officer any day. He opened his mouth to say something that would probably inspire Bones to cut him off for a week if he ever found out about it when Gaila chimed in.

"Oh, yes," she purred, looking all satisfied and green. "Scotty has been divine. I'll truly miss not wanting him exclusively any more when this is all over."

Huh? Okay, that demanded an explanation, so he gave his confusion voice. "Huh? What does having a baby have to do with wanting or not wanting just him?"

She smiled happily. "The mental thing the babies cause."

"Mental thing? Vat mental thing?" Chekov asked, looking as baffled as Jim felt. Of course, Uhura was too busy being serene to join in. Bitch.

"Well, I know you all were in love and ready to get married and everything. Scotty and I love each other as friends and enjoy each other's company in all manner of ways, but we're not in love. But it's fun to feel like we are."

And yeah, that's when Jim got it. Of fucking course, their minds had been manipulated along with their bodies. He should have known that from the beginning. He'd tried for years without success to catch Bones. And out of four of them, at least one should have opted out of the whole having a baby thing. Hell, Uhura and Spock should have been the only one still shopping for baby clothes if he turned an assessing eye on the state of the various pre-pregnancy relationships. His world shattering, Jim amazed himself at how calmly he asked, "What makes you think what you feel isn't permanent?"

"McCoy told us when we decided to get married -- said it would stop when the baby was born."

He might have given himself away if Chekov hadn't chimed in with, "I vould think you vould be most upset by this."

"I know, but I'm sure that's part of the mental thing, too. Anyway, we did eventually ask about an antidote, but you know how paranoid McCoy has been about doing anything that would muck with our body chemistry, so it just seemed like the best way to handle it was to enjoy it." She grinned. "And we have."

Enjoy it while he could. She made it sound so simple, but how could he when he would lose Bones in less than two months? He managed to hold it together until his guests had left, then he let the tears come. When Bones showed up a few minutes later, Jim defaulted to stereotype and claimed hormonal surges, then cried in his husband's arms as he tried not to think of how little time they had left.

*

Scotty dropped by sickbay at two days short of eight months. "I think I might finally have it," he announced holding up a bottle.

Leonard rolled his eyes. "There's less than five weeks to go," he pointed out even he poured some of the amber liquid into the analyzer.

"None of which changes the fact that synthehol is a crime to the sensibilities of drinkers everywhere," Scotty insisted. "If I do naught in my life but correct that, I will die a happy man."

He couldn't help but smile. And agree about the swill.

"Oh, and while we're waiting, the lass and I have finished the plans for the new quarters. Care for a look?"

He nodded, and Scotty activated the console Leonard used to view things his PADD couldn’t handle. "We'll be using the rooms emptied out when we married," he explained as he pointed to the enlargements done to each of their quarters. "It'll give the wee ones rooms of their own, plus an extra room for whatever each couple sees fit."

He pointed to the new walls. "We can do an adequate job using the transporters to shift things around, but to do it right will take time in space dock."

"Would the time required happen to match up to the length of a pregnancy leave?"

Scotty looked amazed. "Why, I do believe it will. Now there's a coincidence for you."

Leonard laughed and clapped Scotty on the shoulder. "Looks good," he admitted, then turned at the beeping noise. "And it seems your brew is fit for human consumption."

"Then shall we be having a taste to celebrate?"

"Why not? I’m in the mood to live dangerously."

Scotty chuckled and poured them both a glass. "To the wee ones," he said raising his glass.

"To the babies," Leonard agreed, then drank. It was … not half bad. In fact … "Scotty, you're a genius."

"Aye, I am," he agreed happily.

They sat and drank in a companionable silence until curiosity got the best of Leonard. "So you and Gaila have decided to share quarters after the baby's born?"

"Aye. We'll be having separate entrances, and personal locks on the inside doors, but neither of us fancied the idea of not living with the babe."

He nodded, having always known they'd find a way to make things work. He only wished he was as certain of his future with Jim. He had to bite back the urge to tell Scotty they would need a similar setup, to tell him the truth. If he did, he knew Scotty would lend him a sympathetic ear, then lead him down to engineering for a bottle of the real stuff and a good long drunk. Tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to share his fears with someone, who, while a good friend, was also a member of Jim's crew.

But by the time Scotty left him, Leonard knew he desperately need to talk to someone. Someone not on this ship, but who gave a damn about him. Fortunately, he knew just the right person for the job.

*

Jim noted a rather large pre-recorded transmission from Bones going out along with the usual reports to Starfleet Command. Unusual given they were close enough in for face-to-face transmissions to Earth and this one was marked personal. Personal and recipient unlisted. Meaning it contained a request for forwarding of a confidential message. Just the sort of thing someone did to apply for a transfer. Bones. His hand shifted to his belly. Don't let him go, yet. Please, not yet.

*

Almost from day one, Leonard had fallen into the habit of being on the bridge a few minutes prior to the end of alpha shift where one perfectly timed scowl could send three out of four of his troublesome patients scrambling for the door and needed nutritional supplements, naps and physicals. He counted on Keenser to rat on Gaila if she decided to disobey her doctor's orders since the young Orion woman had a tendency to wrap Scotty around her little finger far too tightly for her own good.

When he stepped out onto the bridge Jim gave him the usual look – half 'my husband's here' grin and half 'fucking mother hen is at it again' scowl. Leonard couldn't quite figure out how he managed it, but it was … expressive. Being far less creative, he responded with his usual all purpose 'you're an idiot, but I love you' glare, then took his usual place to the right of Jim's chair.

It didn't really give him the best view of Jim, but he figured staring at Jim for the final five minutes of the shift moved him from the concerned husband/doctor and into stalker territory, so he feigned his usual interest in the forward view screen. It was admittedly a nice view in the same-old-same-old sense. Not one thing about his time in Starfleet had changed his original position that space was full of disease, darkness and death, but it certainly masked it all in a grandeur found in the simplest star field. 

No star field today. Given the cause of the Nero Incident, Starfleet had made the study of supernovas a priority – they wanted to try to find a way to deal with them without creating fucking time portals and planet destroying technology. Probably no way around the second, but Leonard gave them points for wanting to avoid it. Jim had used the directive as an excuse to keep Enterprise as confined to ship-bound exploration as possible while he couldn't risk hazardous away team missions, which made the view of a supernova off the portside a familiar one.

None of which distracted him enough to miss Sulu's subtle nod toward Chekov. Immediately, Leonard's full focus settled on the kid. Even without being able to see his face, his utterly rigid posture spoke of strain. Fuck. Fearing the early stages of miscarriage, he moved over to him. The sight of his face didn't ease his worry. Pale, eyes too bright, sweating – not good. "Are you in pain, Pavel?" he whispered, ready to order an immediate transport to sickbay.

The kid … blushed? "No," he muttered. "It itches."

Worry flirted with relief – Chekov did have the same look as someone desperate to scratch the mysterious itch on the bottom of his foot times ten. "Hemorrhoids?" he asked, his voice going even softer.

He shook his head. "Is forward."

"Jock itch?"

"Is behind."

So the poor kid had a bad itch in the perineum. No particular name for it, but easy enough to deal with. "Steroid cream will fix it up," he assured the ensign, who gave him a grateful smile. Unless. …

Leonard looked up to shoot a glare at Jim for being a martyr role-model and caught him trying to squirm in his chair without looking like he was squirming. One itch was relatively unremarkable, but two – both in the genital area of his two never-designed-to-get-pregnant males – said something he'd long expected was finally happening.

He and Jim spent the last three minutes of the shift glaring at each other while Leonard fantasized about grabbing a fistful of Jim's shirt and hauling him down to sickbay, but he couldn't justify it. Even if it would have done wonders for his own morale.

Right on time, the personnel for beta shift began filing onto the bridge, but Jim had that stubborn 'you can't make me leave' look on his face. Yes, he could, but he wasn't in the mood for round 7,006 of this strange pissing match they'd fallen into. Instead he did the one thing Jim hated even more than hypos – he ignored him.

"Time for your checkup, Mr. Chekov," Leonard said cheerily, well, for him, as he took hold of the young ensign's elbow. Ever the polite young man, Pavel came along without protest, Sulu on their heels.

McCoys being made of stronger stuff than either Orpheus or Lot's wife, Leonard did not so much as think about looking back to see if Jim was following, especially since he knew Jim couldn’t make it to the lift before the doors closed.

A quick ride later and he ushered the two crewmen into his sickbay, and got Chekov situated on a biobed. Nothing in the readouts, so he switched on the sonogram. And sure enough, there it was right on schedule.

"Doctor?" Sulu asked, his hand settling on Chekov's shoulder.

Before he could answer, the doors swished open and Jim walked in. He held himself with the rigid dignity of a cat in 'I meant to do that' mode, and Leonard could practically see a tail twitching violently behind him as he made his way over to his own biobed.

"Nothing to be worried about," Leonard reassured both of them as he moved over to Jim. To reward him for not being an ass, he pressed a kiss to his forehead, then did a quick check to verify the same condition.

He took hold of Jim's hand – because it was what supportive husbands did when doctors made pronouncements even when he was the doctor in question – and said, "But, barring complications to warrant them, cesareans are off the table."

Jim groaned that quick mind of his no doubt letting him guess what was coming. "The uterus formed around the baby, now the vagina is growing. The itching is the opening developing."

He drew Jim's hand up, then gave it a kiss. "You're both giving birth the old-fashioned way." Labor pains and all which meant he needed to run some tests to see how the usual pain killers interacted with a pregnant male's physiology.

Jim paled, and Leonard almost laughed. Guess they'd finally found something that scared the crap out of Captain James T. Kirk. Yes, it might have been funny if anything remotely associated with Jim in pain could come close to such a concept.

Sulu didn't seem pleased either as he gave Pavel a worried glance and asked, "Why can't you still do the cesarean?"

Leonard sighed. No reason. Every reason. "Same reason we've been doing things the hard way all along – I've no idea how any of this happened or what effect trying to circumvent things will have." Once he'd calmed down that first day and had really absorbed the incredible lack of information provided in the Heraan data, he'd stopped thinking about choices and other options. Instead he'd adopted a very simple rule of thumb – if it wasn't worth risking Jim's life over, he wasn't doing it to him or anyone else. So far, nothing had proved worth it. He wouldn't even allow painkillers except as a last resort.

"Fuck, I need a drink," Jim moaned, surprising a bark of laughter out of all of them.

He leaned over and gave Jim another quick kiss, this time on the lips. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle for the usual."

Chekov sighed, "Ginger tea."

He chuckled at the disgust in the kid's voice. "Take him back to your quarters, Hikaru. See if you can't think of something to cheer him up." Both young men blushed a bit, but there was a sparkle in their eyes as they left sickbay. 

Ah, young love. Nothing like it to make a man feel ancient. He turned his attention to Jim. "How about you? You want to settle for ginger tea?"

"Hell no," he snapped, hopping off the biobed with surprising agility, then he grabbed Leonard's hand and hauled him out of sickbay.

*

Uhura went into labor at eight months one and half weeks in the middle of alpha shift. She gasped as her water broke, causing everyone, including Jim, to spin around to see her standing up with a distressed look on her face.

"Spock," she whispered, fluid stribbling down her long, beautiful legs.

For a moment no one moved, then Jim barked, "Go!"

Spock fairly leapt across the room, swept his wife into his arms, then bolted into the turbolift.

"Bones, incoming!" Jim warned over the comm.

"Christ, here we go," Bones muttered, then broke the connection.

Jim met Chekov's eyes, and decided now would be a good time for a tension cutter. "So, you think we can count on the big strong Vulcan to carry us off to sickbay?"

Sulu snorted, and Chekov said, "I think I vould prefer to lean on Hikaru."

"Give us all diabetes, why don't you," Jim muttered, making everyone – including Chekov and Sulu laugh. So mission accomplished. "Okay, everyone, let's all at least pretend to get some more work done. Wouldn't want a supernova to sneak away while we weren't looking or anything." Another round of laughter, then everyone fell silent while Jim tried to concentrate on scientific shit and not think about something the size of a watermelon making its way out of his communications officer.

Two hours later, Bones informed them the newest member of the crew had arrived without a hitch. Good to know, and Jim had to smile when Spock announced his son would be Samdal – the closest male Vulcan name to Amanda.

*

Gaila went into labor at eight months twenty-nine days. Once again the labor lasted less than two hours and produced a beautiful healthy baby of perfect birth-weight. Whatever would or would not happened next, Scotty sat with his wife and child, while both parents beamed at each other and little Monty.

Leonard wished them well, then retreated to his office. He passed on the good news for Jim to announce to the ship and poured himself a glassful of Scotty's latest brew. This one not only tasted like the good stuff, in managed that fiery kick on the way down without any of the other effects of distilled alcohol. Shear brilliance.

"Dr. McCoy, you have an incoming transmission," Uhura informed him. She and Spock had both gone back to work within days, the baby sleeping in a sling they traded off wearing one hour to the next. Everyone on this ship was fucking nuts about their jobs, he grumbled to himself.

"I'll take it in my office," he said, then remembered to thank her as he turned toward his communications screen.

A moment later a beautiful woman with red hair appeared. Dr. Jocelyn Summers, once McCoy, smiled at him. "Leonard, it's good to see you."

He smiled back. Once upon a time he'd loved this woman, then watched helplessly as the love they'd had turned to a hate that burned twice as hot and three times longer than their brief marriage. He'd never thought he would smile at the sight of her again, but two years ago he'd been asked for a recommendation for a prestigious posting at a hospital a former collogue ran in Georgia. Never one to let personal feelings get in the way of good medicine, he'd recommended his ex-wife without hesitation. It had led to great things for her, including a husband who could love her with a depth she deserved and one he hadn't realized he'd not felt for her until he'd truly fallen in love. With Jim.

It had led to a thank you and the first civilized conversation they'd had since a year before the divorce. Then another. And another. And slowly they had become the friends they always should have been before teenaged hormones and family pressures had interfered. "And you. I take it you got my message." He could have simply contacted her, but he couldn't bring himself to look into anyone's eyes as he poured out all his pain and fear.

"I was at a seminar and only just got it. Oh, Leonard, I'm so sorry."

He looked away fighting to stay in control. He'd cried once. He'd sworn he'd not do it again until Jim asked for a divorce. But his eyes burned. "Me, too."

"No, you misunderstand. This is all my fault."

At least confusion pushed away the tears. "What?"

She sighed. "I hope this doesn't cost us what we've gotten back, but if it does, I guess it will serve me right."

"You're really not making any sense, darlin'."

"You know how hurt and angry I was in the early days. I still wanted to kill you with my bare hands back when I descended on you during your first year."

He nodded. Not the sort of unpleasant encounter one forgot.

"Thing is, Leonard, I could tell even then."

"Tell what?"

"He loves you. How you missed that, I'll never know, 'Bones,' but I sure couldn't."

For all her faults Joc was both a brilliant physician and one of the best judges of character he had ever known. It was one of the reasons the divorce had rattled him so much – if she thought he was scum and he'd never known her to be wrong, didn't that make him scum? "You … think he loves me?"

She snorted. "He _shown_ with it. Like some goddamned star. And he was so beautiful. … I just lost it. Said something awful." She blushed. She fucking blushed like he hadn't seen her do since they were in middle school.

A headache the likes of which he hadn't experienced since they'd signed the divorce papers rose up, and he pinched his nose to ward it off. "What?"

She sighed. "In my defense, I never expected it to hit so close to home. I mean, only you, Leonard."

"Joc. What. Did. You. Say?"

"I told him you were an utter bastard who had abandoned me because I wanted a child and you didn't." It came out in a rush, so it took him a moment to process what she'd said.

"Godfuckingdamnit, woman!"

She flinched at his bellow. "God, I know that tone. If you never speak to me again, I'll understand and wish you all the happiness I've found," she said in another rush, her eyes sad enough a small part of his mind whispered he'd forgive her eventually. "Now, go fix this mess!"

She broke the transmission, but he was out of his chair and running for the door before her image could even flicker out. Stupid! How could he have been so stupid? No wonder Jim had looked so unhappy when he thought Leonard wasn't looking. The kid was a fucking genius and it hadn't taken more than emotion where it hadn't been for Gaila and Scotty to figure out the mental aspects of all of this. Jim certainly would have made the connection when trying to figure out why a baby-hating bastard had gone all dewy-eyed over their baby. God, what a pair of idiots they were!

The turbolift doors opened and he caught a break when he found the captain's chair empty – so no need to get him somewhere private while not embarrassing him in front of his crew. Uhura confirmed his guess by nodding toward the ready room, and he crossed the bridge in a few long strides.

Jim was sitting at his desk, but looked up when Leonard entered, his eyes full of fear. "No," he whispered, his face paling. "Don't-"

Leonard cupped his face in his hands. "I love you," he said, "and I love our baby." He kissed Jim. "I refused to have a baby with Joc because she wanted to use it to keep us together when there wasn't a damned good thing left in our marriage. Had nothing to do with how I feel about children. Hell, I wanted a kid, just not with her!" Another kiss, then he looked Jim in eye. "Now, you tell me the truth, Jim Kirk. When did you fall in love with me?"

Jim's big eyes managed to widen even more as he obviously got what Leonard had been afraid of. "Like you said – loved you for so long I don't know, but I knew by the time we boarded the ship."

"Thank God," he whispered. He pressed a series of light kisses against Jim's jaw. "I need to make love to you."

"God, yes," Jim moaned.

"Might make you go into labor," he warned.

"Bonus then," he murmured, leading Leonard over to the sofa. It was the last thing Leonard let him do.

Instead Leonard got them undressed, then pulled out the lube Jim kept stashed in the room. Jim's stomach far too big for anything else, he helped him get on his hands and knees in the center of the large sofa. Lube, then one, two, three fingers to get him ready.

"Now, Bones, do it now," Jim moaned, shoving back against the fingers inside him.

Leonard pressed a kiss to his back, then pushed slowly in, for the first time making love with a man he knew loved him and knew he was loved in return. Wonderful, and when he came, his hand shifted to caress Jim's belly. And he knew it was only the beginning.

*

Irina Chekov Sulu burst into the world two mornings later. Same easy labor despite a body and hip span not meant to deal with such things. And while, as Bones put it, Chekov had had the sense God gave a gnat and had taken himself off duty when he hit the nine-month mark, Jim had reported to the bridge at the usual time.

He'd made all sorts of grand pronouncements about being the captain and never off duty, but secretly he'd hoped, Murphy being the bitch of all time, he'd go into labor the minute he sat his ass in the captain's chair, because this had gotten beyond old. He was absolutely certain it would happen the instant a scowling Bones was called back to sickbay to deal with a broken leg, but no such luck. Of course he'd forgotten the conniving aspect of Murphy's bitchiness, so his water burst five seconds after the supernova did something similar.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" he raged as dampness flooded his pants, and he clung to his chair to keep from flying across the room as shockwaves buffeted the ship. In the brief calm between the next roller coaster ride, he threw himself at the helm, shoving aside the poor sap sitting in for Sulu. Guy was good, but not good enough for this, an assessment that applied to Chekov's replacement, too, since Spock pushed her out of the way as well.

The ship bouncing around like a ping pong ball, pulse waves knocking out ship systems left and right, the two of them struggled to regain control. Every single fucking time it seemed like they'd done it, another system would fail or the damned dying star would dance another jig – so of fucking course – almost two hours slipped by before they finally got _Enterprise_ a safe distance away and things stabilized.

"Shit, oh, shit," Jim moaned, clutching at his belly as Spock eased him to the floor. "Bones!"

"Turbolifts are out of commission, Captain," Uhura said, hurrying over to him now that it was safe to move. And he couldn't even begin to track who she'd handed her baby to.

He could feel the baby's head pushing between his legs, but still tried to fight them as she and Spock stripped off his boots and pants. "No, goddamnit, I want Bones!"

For once the universe listened as in a whirl of light, his husband materialized on the bridge. Most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. "You beamed inside the ship for me," he gasped.

"Damned right, I did," he said, hurrying over to him, his tricorder whirling before he even hit his knees. "Everything's fine," Bones assured everyone, while someone who was so getting a commendation when Jim could think clearly enough to figure out who it was, threw a blanket over him, giving Jim as much privacy as he could get.

Another pain rolled through him, and his hand flailed desperately for an anchor.

"No, Nyota," Bones barked, "he'll break your hand. Spock, you do it."

The Vulcan took his hand, easily enduring Jim's grip, while Nyota got behind him, and helped him up into an easier birthing position.

"Always have to do things the fucking hard way," Bones muttered, settling between his legs, and damn that usually meant good things, but this, this really sucked! "I can see her head. Push, sweetheart, push!"

"I am … fucking… pushing," he grated out, then decided to hell with it and let himself scream as the watermelon tumbled free.

"She's beautiful. Perfect, just like her mommy," Bones murmured amidst whirling sounds and a tug Jim assumed was the cord being cut, but totally lacked the energy to look.

"Not a mommy," he groaned through another contraction as the afterbirth spilled out, followed by some more fussing. Then Bones laid their daughter on his stomach, and oh.

"She has your chin, thank God," Bones murmured, caressing Jim's bare leg.

"Has your nose. And hair." Usual dark blue eyes looked up at him, but the shape of them and the brow was all Jim's. Beautiful baby girl. "George."

"Spock, let's get them into the ready room."

Spock picked up Jim and daughter easily, then carried them off the bridge. A few moments later, they were settled on the sofa, Jim's head resting in Bones' lap. "Still can't believe you teleported for me," he murmured.

"I love you, you stubborn idiot," he grumbled, his fingers gently caressing Jim's face and hair. "Where else would I be, but with you?"

"Mmmm, love you, too." Felt so tired, so comfortable.

"Come here, baby girl," Bones said, shifting to pick up their daughter. "Mommy needs a nap."

"Not a mommy," he scowled.

Somehow Bones managed to maneuver the baby, then shift enough without disturbing Jim to kiss him on the nose. "Yeah, you really are. Now, get some sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."

Jim believed and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

end


End file.
